


Dawn Child

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discussion of the death of gods, M/M, Sun Summon Prompto, Technically this is an OT5 if you include the god sharing Prompto's body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Summer has always followed Prompto Argentum. He's never had reason to question it, never wondered why he loves so deeply and feels so strongly, or why there are times when it seems as though there's a small piece of himself that stands apart. It isn't until he is on the road with his friends that the truth makes itself known, and Prompto learns that by leaving the safety of Insomnia, he is putting himself in more danger than he can fathom.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a sign at the entrance of the East 33rd borough of Insomnia, scrawled on a piece of wood pinned to a cherry tree. _Isle of the Blessed,_ it said, and while the neighbors smiled and rolled their eyes as they passed it on their way to work, no one ever thought to take it down. It was their secret, a truth so closely safeguarded that no one dared say it aloud: Because if there were gods wandering the earth, like the priestesses said, then one of them must have _loved_ East 33rd.

Spring always came early there, spreading out from the center of the borough in a ripple of bright flower buds and thick grass, in birds seeking the warmth that came to their narrow streets while the rest of the city trembled in winter's chill. Kids sat outside in shorts while their classmates buttoned up on the other side of the bridge, bees hung low over blossoms bursting with pollen, and the sunsets that peeked through the high rises were just short of magnificent. It was the sort of neighborhood that kids dreamed of, full of life and light and color, and Prompto Argentum, who lived in a small one story apartment in the middle of it all, adored it to distraction. 

Prompto was a quiet child, easy to ignore when others ran by on scooters and bikes, phones ringing with the tones of the latest pop sensation. He listened to it too, of course, earbuds pressed tight as he lay out in the narrow strip of lawn, raised his feet, and dreamed of walking on the sky. 

Sometimes, when the grass was high and the birds were out, and his neighbor's chubby white cat sunned herself on the wall, the love he felt for that small yard was so strong that it poured off him like waves, heating his fingertips with it, pushing away encroaching storm clouds to make a perfect circle of blue over the neighborhood. He would close his eyes tight, and when he opened them again, he could feel a whisper in the back of his mind. It was like an echo, strange and thrilling and small, urging him on. 

Prompto assumed that this was probably what people called a soul, but he never had the courage to ask his parents if it was true. How could he explain the way it felt to be so happy that he laughed twice? To get the odd feeling that he'd seen something before, even when he was seeing it for the first time through the lens of his camera? To never be truly alone, because there was always something just out of reach that made his heart race and his lips curve in a grin?

So Prompto just carried on as usual, and with every step he took on the well-worn sidewalks of his neighborhood, his blessing grew.

 

\---

 

"Catch a falling star, Titan,  
Catch a falling star  
Tell us who you are, mortal,  
Tell us who you are  
I'm Janey, J-A-N-E-Y—"

Prompto Argentum sat on the hood of his best friend's car and watched three girls play with jump ropes on the baking pavement outside Hammerhead Garage. It was a sweltering day, but Prompto was the only one who'd decided to stay out with the car. Noct, Gladio, and Ignis were huddled in the air conditioned gas station, squabbling over whether or not they could afford racing stripe decals while Prompto cracked open a can of soda and watched the girls skip and jump, ponytails flying.

"Got him with a spear, Titan  
Got him with a spear  
How'd they kill the sun, Titan?  
Here! Here! Here!"

The girl in the middle pounded her fist on her chest, and Prompto felt a twinge of pain in his lungs. She giggled and jumped out, and took the ends of two of the ropes so her friend could jump in. 

It was a pretty morbid rhyme, really. Prompto hadn't heard it before, but he knew the story. The Titan had caught a meteor as it barreled towards the earth, and when he held it, still smoking in his massive hands, a god had stepped out of the meteor's heart.

And then Niflheim had killed it. Typical. Prompto drained his soda and tossed the can in a trash bin by the gas pumps, then took out his camera.

He got a shot of a girl jumping in the air, dark hair whirling round her narrow face. 

"Hey, Prompto." Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prince of Lucis and heir to a throne that lay under ten feet of rubble, slapped Prompto's shoulder. "Get off my car. We're heading to Lestallum."

Prompto slid off the hood and landed with a thud on the concrete. 

"Shiva's in the sea, Titan,  
Shiva's in the sea  
Ifrit's on the mountaintop  
With me, me, me!"

"You ready to roll out?" Gladio asked. Behind them, one of the girls missed a cue, and the jumping game faltered into a tangle of ropes and irate shrieking. Prompto grinned and climbed into the passenger side, draping his arms over the door.

"You know me, big guy," he said, as the jump ropes struck up another slapping beat. "I'm ready for anything."


	2. Chapter 2

Prompto never dreamed in stories.

Gladio talked about his dreams with the air of a veteran big brother: They ranged from being late for class to running through a Citadel full of ghosts, stories that kept Prompto wide awake when the wind brushed the walls of their tent and the others were knocked out. Ignis' dreams were hilarious, complex creations that had him mumbling in his sleep and waking with his legs wrapped around Prompto's like a vise. Noct never said what his were, but Prompto caught him smiling once or twice, so they couldn't be that bad.

Prompto's were just... strange. He dreamed in long, unbroken stretches, of wide fields and rocky steppes, of sitting in thick grass or walking by little stone shrines. He dreamed of watching swarms of bees find new hives, or sitting on a branch until the seasons changed. The only time anything happened was when he dreamed of the coeurl.

The coeurl was a massive creature, blue and white like the cats that stalked the Galahdian archipelago, and she passed alongside Prompto in his dreams as though he were an interloper in _her_ territory. 

"They'll come for you soon enough," she said. Her paws were twice the size of an average coeurl's, and her whiskers twitched forward with the whistle of a whip. Prompto reached out to touch her bony shoulder, and the hand he saw was longer, thinner, than the one he knew in his waking life. 

"Oh, Lela." His voice was different, too. Lower, sharper at the edges. "You worry too much."

Black eyes turned to his. "It's in my nature to worry," she said, and Prompto scratched her behind the whiskers. "It's what keeps me alive."

Lela was always like that. When Prompto dreamed of her, it usually meant trouble. He'd fail a test, nearly get mowed over in traffic, run late for the bus, or break something. The last time she'd shown up, Prompto tripped down a flight of stairs and nearly fractured his ankle. 

Now, Prompto woke with a start to find Ignis pulling the Regalia off to the side of the road. 

"Morning, sunshine," Gladio said, ruffling the back of Prompto's hair. "The empire has a surprise for us."

"Oh, great," Prompto said. "Just what I wanted."

"It's only a blockade," Ignis assured him. Noct looked less awake than Prompto, and practically oozed off the trunk and into the dry, brittle grass.

Taking out the MTs on the other side of the blockade was laughably easy. While Noct got to have some one-on-one time with Cor the Immortal, Prompto kept behind Gladio, taking advantage of the MTs' hesitance to get close so he could pick off stragglers. Ignis was almost a coeurl himself, all flashy moves that had Gladio rolling his eyes and the MTs staggering back in shock. Prompto wolf-whistled when Ignis kicked a dagger towards a sniper, and got an actual wink in return.

"Don't encourage him," Gladio growled. 

"Now, now, Gladio, credit where it's due." Ignis slid a hand over Gladio's cheek as he passed, and Prompto grinned at the look of flustered outrage on Gladio's face.

"We should set Iggy loose more often," Prompto said.

"Don't be fooled by the fancy accent, sunshine," Gladio warned. "He's just an adrenaline junkie in a nice suit."

They were laughing, bright-eyed with battle fever and swaggering through a street full of fallen MTs, when Noctis and Cor appeared, looking only a little worse for wear.

Then it happened.

When Prompto was young, his uncle took him out to see the new zombie film everyone in school was talking about. Prompto had made it most of the way through with only a few squeaks and jumps to betray him, but then he'd spotted an extra in the background of a landscape shot, walking backwards on their knees. There was something about that image that turned Prompto's stomach, that sent his mind ringing with a frantic alarm of this is wrong, this is wrong, and his whole body had broken out in a cold sweat.

He felt that same wrongness now, sick and harsh and jarring, and his fingers clenched on his gun. "Guys," he said. They all turned to him, faces tight with concern. "Guys, _guys!"_

"Easy, Prompto," Noct said, stepping forward. "Sometimes this can happen. Clarus said coming down from a fight can—"

"Well, well. If it isn't Cor the Immortal." 

Cor groaned. The voice that shook the street beneath them came from the loudspeakers of an MT aircraft, roaring down to earth with its bay doors wide open. A man stood next to a mech, one hand braced on the wall, a red shoulder cape flapping in the wind. 

"Someone you know?" Noct asked.

"Wish I didn't," said Cor.

Prompto shot the man in the arm.

"Prompto!" There was a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't tell whose. All he knew was that this was _wrong,_ that he had to stop it, had to... to stop _him,_ whoever he was, whatever he—

"Insubordinate--" the man snarled, but Prompto shot again, and he lunged back. There. There it was, in the way he moved. Prompto felt like part of his mind was screaming, trying to get his attention, to tell him _something, anything,_ but the man was up the side of the mech in a flash, and MTs were dropping all around them. Prompto shook off the hand on his arm and fired at the glass of the machine. 

"Prompto!" Noct's voice. Prompto ran for him, and found Noct crouched behind a storage container, sword drawn. His dark hair hung limp over his eyes, which were wide with adrenaline, but he immediately made room for Prompto at his side. 

"You okay, man?" he asked. "You were kind of freaking out there—shit!" He flinched, pulling his hand away from Prompto's forearm. "You're burning up. Sit this one out, Prompto, that's an order."

Prompto forced a smile, but Noct didn't seem convinced. "Don't sweat it, Noct. I can handle it. Let's do that move we used at the mines yesterday."

"If you're sure," Noct said. "Alright, fine, but stay back. I'm not getting you killed, Prompto." 

"Not really on my to-do list today," Prompto said, slinking out of their cover. Noct snorted.

"Like you ever had a to-do list." 

They charged the back of the mech together, Prompto sliding under Noct to shoot at the joint of one leg, then leaning over so Noct could place a foot on his shoulder and shatter the mechs weak spot. Except this time, Prompto was too anxious to stay still, and he looked up just as Noct's sword swung back.

Light raced down the blade of the sword, branching out like the spiderwebbing veins of a leaf, until the weapon was glowing so bright that Noct had to close his eyes against the glare. He was already swinging down, too late to let go, and when the blade struck, a wave of heat rolled over them, knocking them both to the asphalt.

Above them, the joint of the mech leg was a mess of molten steel.

"Huh," said Noct. "That was new."

The mech slipped and skidded, collapsing on itself as Gladio, Ignis, and Cor crushed the controls at its front. The man in the piloting seat wailed, and Prompto scrambled to his feet.

"Wait," Noct shouted. "He probably has a kill switch!"

But Prompto was already up the side of the machine. He didn't notice how easy it was for his fingers to hook into the metal, or the grooves he left behind in the steel carapace. He reached the top, where the man in the red cloak was struggling with his harness, and pushed in a pane of fractured glass.

"You'll regret this," the man said. "You..." He looked up, and for a moment, his eyes went black as sloe, and Prompto felt an ache in his chest, tight and hot. The man's right hand shook as it reached for a metal collar at his neck, and fumbled over a slim blue button.

"I know you," he said to Prompto, even as his fingers frantically pressed the button, over and over. "I _know_ you."

Then there was a faint click, and the blackness in his eyes retreated. 

"Out of my _way,_ " he growled, and pushed Prompto with both hands, sending him reeling off the edge. Cor grabbed Prompto as he fell, and swung him around just in time as the mech burst into flame. Prompto's nose was pressed to Cor's chest, and he heard the man grunt as something struck his back.

"He isn't..." Prompto pulled away, and looked at the smoldering wreckage. "He's not dead?"

"Loqi Tummelt doesn't die so easy," Cor said, and gestured to the airship. A man in armor was clinging to the doors, wrenching himself up with arms that shook. "He has a god's own luck."

"Yeah, well, it's gotta run out some day," Noct said. He pushed Prompto's shoulder. "The hell was that about, action hero?"

Prompto grinned weakly. "Can't let you hog all the glory, Noct."

"Sure you can." Gladio hauled Prompto up by an arm, and Prompto allowed himself one shaky, shivering breath, before he doubled over and heaved his lungs out on Gladio's new boots.

 

\---

 

"I'm really sorry," he moaned fifteen minutes later, as Gladio settled, barefoot, in the backseat of the Regalia. "I'm really, really—"

"We get it, Prom," Noct said. "It was kind of a close fight for a second, there."

"Ruined the leather, though," Gladio said. There was a thump and a muffled curse. "I mean, don't worry. I have plenty of thousand dollar boots lying around."

Prompto moaned again. 

"Why don't we stop at a hotel tonight?" Ignis asked. He glanced over at Prompto, and flashed him one of his rare smiles. "How does a real bath and cable television sound?"

"Amazing," Noct said.

"You," Prompto said, leaning over to place a hand on Ignis' shoulder, "are kind of the best." 

Ignis raised an eyebrow. "I try."

That night, Prompto waited until the others were changing for bed, then went outside to the plastic lawn chairs in the parking lot. The hills of Duscae were a riot of cicadas, frogs, and the call of night birds, and the water of the slough glowed gold with the remains of the sunset. Prompto drew up his legs and let the sound of the night wash over him, so different from the roar of distant traffic back home. The chair squeaked with his weight, his muscles ached from the fight, and no matter what he did, he couldn't shake the disquieting feeling that had started at the blockade. 

When he finally slept, head lolling back on his shoulder under the floodlights of the hotel, Prompto dreamed of sunny fields and clear skies, and an empty place at his side where a coeurl should be.


	3. Chapter 3

Summer clung to the grasses of Duscae even as chill winds threatened from the sea, and sweat-soaked shirts froze on Prompto’s back as the night drew in. Prompto and Gladio were given the unlucky task of dragging the worst of their clothes to the creek, after which they were strung up in lines around the fire, steaming gently to the sound of Noct and Ignis kicking up dinner. Prompto had to keep moving to avoid getting splashed, and spent most laundry nights sitting on the edge of the haven, watching daemons prowl the slough. Gladio joined him sometimes, pointing out daemons he recognized from books in the Citadel library, while Noct rolled his eyes and muttered about birdwatching clubs.

Some nights, though, they didn't quite make it to the haven in time.

Prompto wasn't a night owl. He didn't pretend to be, not when he was staggering on his feet a few hours after sunset and crawling into the tent as soon as the dishes were done. He always felt worn out at night, stretched thin, and when the iron giant bubbled out of the earth like a catoblepas out of the marsh, eclipsed by the engine of yet another imperial airship, Prompto nearly threw his gun down in disgust. 

“MTs won't get off our backs,” Gladio said, as the iron giant turned to fling its sword in the thick of the swordsmen dropping out of the ship. 

“They _have_ been remarkably persistent,” Ignis said. The giant stomped, knocking five soldiers off their feet, and Noct winced.

“I almost feel bad for them,” he said. He summoned a sword, hefting it in one hand. “Hey, Prom, remember that thing with Lorkin?”

“Loqi,” Prompto said.

“Right.” Noct grinned and winked, and Prompto bit back an exhausted groan, holding out his hand. Noct slapped it, and when Prompto laughed, both daemon and the remaining MTs turned glowing eyes their way.

“Go!” Noct shouted. “Come on, Prompto, chop-chop!”

Prompto tried to slide under Noct’s feet. He really did. But he failed to factor in the slick mud of the swamp, and skidded a whole five feet before he hit the iron giant head-on. He held his gun in steady hands, sighting a face like solid rock, and whispered under his breath.

“Please, gods.”

Then Noct appeared, materializing in a whirl of blue light, and planted a foot on Prompto’s shoulder, right near the joint of his neck.

“Sorry!”

“Fuck you, dude!”

Noct’s sword struck just as Prompto fired, and for one instant, the swamp was illuminated. The MTs shrieked, and Gladio, Noct, and Ignis made their own dark giants on the grass.

Only Prompto, lying in a circle of light, cast no shadow.

 

\---

 

The wind picked up the next morning, and for Noct and his retainers, it brought with it a welcome reprieve. MT carriers only struck during the day, now that Ignis had a schedule drawn up to track the sun. Iris Amicitia spent a few days dragging them all over Lestallum, Gladio bought some new boots off the back of a truck, and Prompto was almost able to shake the unease bubbling in the back of his mind.

Almost.

"I mean it, our linked attacks are getting strange," Noct said one morning, when they were trekking back from a fishing dock off the slough. Gladio had brought a cooler of ginger soda and leftover sandwiches, and they were meandering through the grass with the remains of their lunch in their hands, bottles clinking and cellophane rustling in their pockets.

"My weapons never lit up before, that's all," Noct said, when Prompto only took a sip of his soda. "And it was like it burned a hole in that last daemon."

"Yeah, that _was_ kind of weird," Prompto admitted. "But it's magic, right? Your dad used to—" He winced at the blank look that crossed Noct's face. "He, uh. Knew how to build walls and stuff, right? Maybe that's part of it."

"Maybe," Noct said. He kicked aside a patch of dandelions, making the seeds puff and scatter.

"Noct? A moment." They turned to find Ignis standing at the edge of a small field. Prompto couldn't tell what it used to harvest—There was wheat there, but also long green stalks with wide pods, and a whole mess of sunflowers crowding up on one side. A few Garulets lowed and shuffled in the middle, and there were animal tracks breaking up the field in all directions.

Ignis beckoned them over to a small stone shrine. It was worn with age, but some of the moss had been cleaned off recently, and there were bright, polished stones sitting on a hand-sewn cushion. Noct crouched down to examine them and whistled low.

"Bet Dino'd pay through the nose for these," he said. "Who's the shrine for? Titan?" He reached out to pick up one of the stones, and Prompto lunged forward.

"Don't," he said. "It's rude."

"Looks like some kind of sun god," Gladio said. He leaned over Noct and tapped the carved symbol on the top of the shrine. "That's the sign for star in old Lucian, and they say the followers of Helios used to plant sunflowers." Prompto grinned at him, and his cheeks flushed. "What? A man's allowed to read."

"Didn't Niflheim kill Helios, though?" Ignis asked. "He was only a minor deity, nothing close to Shiva..."

"There they go again," Noct whispered, as Gladio and Ignis drifted off, debating ancient myths. Prompto ran a hand over the edge of the shrine.

"Someone still worships him, though," he said. He picked up one of the stones and held it to the sun, grinning at the way the light bounced off the edges.

"Hey, I thought you said that was rude," Noct said.

"It's fine." Prompto felt warm, like he did when he was young and it seemed like summer would last forever, long and lazy and perfect. He tossed the stone in the air and laughed. "It's... it's beautiful, right? Don't you think, Noct?"

"Prompto."

"Yeah?" Prompto spun on his heel, smiling down at Noct. Gods, Noct was something else. He was strong enough to take on the Titan if he wanted to, but he was still so fragile. They all were, even Gladio. Even Cor. Small, strange creatures, constantly breaking but pushing on anyways, flawed and short-lived but beautiful, beautiful. He loved them. He'd always loved them, even when the worst had come, even...

"Prompto," Noct said again. He knew that name. "You're crying."

He touched his cheeks, and his fingers came back warm and damp. "Oh." Prompto shrugged. "Sorry. I guess it got to me."

"Sure," Noct said, but he wasn't looking at Prompto anymore. He was staring over his shoulder, and when Prompto turned to look, he saw that the sunflowers surrounding the shrine were slowly moving, shifting away from the sun to face Prompto. He stepped into them, past the shrine, and looked back at Noct through a ring of bright blooms, smiling in the light of the midday sun.

"Weird shit," he said.

"Yeah," Noct said, in a dazed, breathless voice. "Yeah, you can say that."

 

\---

 

"So you're saying," Gladio said, when a slightly frantic Noct had shown him and Ignis picture after picture of Prompto sitting in a ring of sunflowers, "that the chocobo here, what, touched a shiny rock and got a blessing from a dead god?"

"Not a very useful one, if so," Ignis said. Noct scowled. "They're flowers, Noctis, not lightning from the heavens. How did you feel, Prompto? When the flowers started to move?"

Prompto rolled the stone from the shrine in his palms. They'd retreated to a haven, from which Prompto could just see the yellow heads of the sunflowers turned up to the sky. "I felt… happy, I guess.” When that didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy Ignis, he tried again. “Just happy. Sorry," he said, when Noct gave him a curious look. "That's it."

Ignis hummed. "Some say that the strength of a god is reliant on the piety of their worshippers. You told Noct not to disturb the shrine. Perhaps some remaining... magic, or power, what have you... responded to that."

"You ain't using Hephat's Theorem, Iggy?" Gladio groaned. He was gutting fish at the edge of the haven. "That guy was drugged half the time, you know."

"Better than your philosopher of choice," Ignis said. "Living in a trash bin is not the go-to answer for enlightenment."

"He was makin' a point about the working class!"

"Guys," Noct said, before they could start up again. "Please. Focus. So it was like a divine thank you?"

"Possibly," Ignis said. "Even when a god is dead, there's always something that remains. That's why the Hunters have the symbol for Lelaile, the goddess of the hunt, on their dog tags. It pays to be respectful."

"That goes double for you, dude," Prompto said, smacking Noct on the shoulder. "Me? I'll take magic flowers over a covenant with one of the big guys any day."

"Thanks for the reminder, Prompto," Noct said. "And for the record, Specs? Gladio? You're both wrong. Everyone knows Auron's scrolls knocked your guys out of the water. Logic over guts, every time."

"Philistine," Ignis said.

Prompto sat back as all three of them broke into the kind of debate that had him turning up the radio in the Regalia, and flipped the stone again. It didn't seem right, really, for someone like _him_ to be blessed. If anything, they deserved it: Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio, the rising stars of the future kingdom of Lucis. They needed all the luck they could get, even if it came from the remnants of a dead god who couldn't move more than a few flowers, here and there.

The stone spun through the air, and for one fraction of a second, it shone with the light of a small sun. Then the light was gone, leaving nothing more than a lingering warmth, unnoticed in the heat that rose from the marshes of Duscae.


	4. Chapter 4

When the Titan, crouching in the foothills of what would one day be known as Cleigne, turned to the bright, burning meteor that roared through the earth's atmosphere, he didn't have time to think before he raised his arms to catch it.

The resulting crater was so wide that three villages had to flee in the night, the foundations of their homes buckling as the ground beneath them rippled and shook. Tremors swept out even to the Leviathan's lair, stirring her from her home in the deeps. The people of Cleigne and Duscae flocked to the meteor, that star that had fallen from the sky, and as they wondered what god had deigned to come to earth, a light in the heart of the meteor flickered to life.

They took the shape of a human, because all humans liked to see themselves in their gods, and stepped down onto the Titan's shoulder to look over the land below.

"What are those creatures?" they asked the Titan, holding onto one of the stones in the Astral's eye for balance. "The small ones, who called to me?"

"Humans," the Titan said. The new god tried on a frown of their own. 

"What are they doing?" they asked.

"Living," the Titan said. "Praying that you will spare them."

"Oh." The god rolled their shoulders. "Should I?"

"That is for you to decide."

The god gave the Titan a look that seemed suspiciously judgmental for one so new, and dropped to the ground to find out.

When they came back a few hundred years later, the god had a name. 

"They have this thing called summer," he said, sitting on the Titan's brow, the hem of his white robes trailing past his bare feet. He had hair now, black and thick, and a crown of leaves that bloomed with bright yellow flowers. "Sometimes they put on clothes made of grass, and they kill an animal with horns. I'm not sure why. But I walk into the middle of it all, and if I like the animal, I bless the town. It's very exciting. Do they kill animals for you?"

"No," said the Titan.

"I like them," the god said. "They call me Helios now. Helios, after one of their old stories. They're so creative and small, and they have this thing called laughing, do you want to hear?" He laughed. "They just do it sometimes, when they're happy. I wish I could know what they look like at night, but I'm the god of the sun now. Maybe you can tell me, if you can stay awake long enough to watch."

Then he laughed again, just for the sake of it, and fell away, returning to the people he'd come to love so much. 

It would be thousands of years before the Titan would see him again, and it would not be the same.

 

\---

 

"I don't trust this guy," Gladio said for the fifth time, as Noctis drove, teeth gritted, twenty feet behind the purple bumper of Mr. "Call me Ardyn's" beloved car. Prompto fiddled with his camera, skipping back and forth between the selfies their auburn-haired friend had taken, and stayed quiet.

He'd felt it a few times since their encounter with Loqi--that wrongness, the jarring feeling that something fundamental about the world had been flipped on its head, but he hadn't been able to pin it down. It happened when Imperial airships found them, roaring down out of an empty sky. It happened at night, sometimes, when Prompto woke in a panic, with nothing but Ignis' half-asleep murmuring and Gladio's hand on his chest to keep him from running. And it had happened a few minutes before, when Ardyn had stopped talking to Noct, smiled, and turned his gaze to Prompto.

"Your feelings on the matter are more than clear," Ignis said. Like he always did when Noctis was driving, he had his hand gripped tight on the Regalia's Oh Shit handle. 

"If he wants to camp with us," Gladio said, "We're gonna have to set up a watch schedule."

"Or tie him up in his car," Prompto said. Noct snorted, the car jerked, and everyone lunged for their seat belts. 

"No jokes," Ignis gasped. "Please."

"I was joking?" Prompto asked. 

They stopped at a caravan for the night, well within the safety of the daemon-warding floodlights, and Gladio pulled everyone aside to divvy up watch assignments. Prompto was notorious for passing out as soon as the sun went down, so he was given the last watch, right before dawn. All the same, he resolved to stay up as long as possible, and sat out in the deck chairs with the others after dinner was done. He didn't last long. It felt like only minutes had passed before Ignis jostled him awake, pushing a sacred can of Ebony in his hands.

Prompto cracked open the can and blinked into the dark of the parking lot. The sprinklers at the edge of the outpost came on, setting off rainbows of mist against the blue haze of the daemon lights. The cat that lived in the convenience store was asleep on one of Gladio's open books, paws twitching. Prompto scratched her behind one ragged ear, and she purred like a broken motor.

"Dawn is some ways off," Ardyn said, and Prompto jumped. Ardyn was leaning against the caravan, ankles crossed, gazing out into the darkness. 

"Nah," Prompto said. "Give it thirty minutes." Ten years of waking up early to run had given him an uncanny internal clock. Judging by the way the sky went grey at the edges, he could tell that the sun was due to rise soon enough. 

"It truly is a blessed country," Ardyn said. "Or it was, before the empire came."

Prompto pushed his chair back and propped his boots on the table. Someone had draped a blanket over him in the night, and it slid down his legs. "I just woke up, dude. Give me a minute." 

"I doubt you'll be truly awake for at least thirty," Ardyn said.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." 

Prompto nursed his Ebony, watching Ardyn as he shifted against the caravan for a better position. "Alright, fine. You said something about the empire?"

"Did I? Oh, yes." Ardyn tugged at his cuffs. "The empire seems to be obsessed with the gods, does it not? The emperor wants to be immortal, so the thought of other immortal beings running around free... It isn't comforting." He smiled at Prompto as though sharing a joke. 

"So the empire started killing them," Prompto said. "Yeah. Everyone knows about Shiva."

"Shiva, yes." Ardyn shrugged. "And the goddess of the harvest, the goddess of the hunt. The god of children—did you know there was one? The goddess of cats, the god of the sun..."

Prompto hunched his shoulders, a sick, twisted feeling rising in his stomach. 

"But of course," Ardyn said, "there are still cats, children, and harvests. There are still hunters. And look! The sun rises." He looked Prompto in the eye. "Gods die, and the world moves on without them. Tell your friend to remember that, when he meets the Titan."

 

\---

 

The trees that lined the entrance to the meteor were ash white and petrified as stone, joining ruined columns and the cracked remains of a shrine wall in a mimicry of the throne room of Insomnia. There was even a dais at the end of it, and the half-sunken tomb of a king. Noct stopped at the coffin, Gladio at his side, and lay a hand on the broken lid. 

"Kinda sad, isn't it?" Prompto said, narrowing the focus of his camera. "All these kings and queens, they were just holding off the Scourge until Noct came around. They couldn't like, give up the throne and become an artist or something."

"No," Ignis said. "I expect they couldn't."

Prompto waited for the light of Noctis' ancestors to coalesce into the shape of his spectral weapon, and took his shot.

"Wonder what Noct would do, if he had the choice."

Ignis' voice sounded distant. "Fish, most likely. Take little jobs here and there. Keep a cat. A simple life."

"Yeah." Prompto put his camera away. "Yeah, I can see that."

They stood there a moment, side by side, Ignis' shoulder brushing against Prompto's as Gladio ran a hand up Noct's back. Then Noctis turned to them, and the glow of magic in his eyes faded as he beckoned.

"Back to reality, huh?" Prompto said, and the smile Ignis gave him was small and wan.

Then the earth fell beneath them.

It started with a horrible, grinding crack, and Noctis cried out, slipping backwards on a great sheet of stone that went toppling over the side of the cliff. Gladio was safe on solid ground, but he leapt off the edge anyways, half running, half sliding amid a cloud of white dust. Ignis lurched as though to follow, and Prompto hung onto his arms, holding him down. 

There wasn't time to wait for the dust to clear. There was another tremor, stronger than the first, and Prompto spotted two figures at the base of the cliff go staggering behind a wall of stone as far below, the face of the Titan rose from the wreckage.

The ache in Prompto's chest felt less like fear than worry, and when the Titan swung his neck to squint through the dust towards the cliff, it was Ignis who had to hold Prompto back from the edge. 

"He'll be after Noct," Ignis said. "We need to find a way down."

The Astral bellowed in a low, booming voice that made the brittle roots of the trees behind them rattle and shake. Then, as Prompto and Ignis started to jog down a sloping path that hissed with pockets of steam, the Titan set down his burden.

The sound of the meteor crashing to earth was amplified in the crater, cracking and screeching and sending both Ignis and Prompto to their knees. They crawled for cover, unable to stand without falling, and by the time the shadow of the Titan's hand passed over them, it was far too late to run.

Prompto dimly heard someone calling his name as he was scraped off the earth in a shower of rubble and tree litter, borne high above the smoke and ash that coated the crater. He heaved himself up the palm that held him, and swung his legs over the Titan's thumb just as the Astral closed his hand into a fist.

Prompto gripped the ends of a thumbnail almost as large as he was, and stared into the weeping, wretched eye of the Archaeon.

 

\---

 

"The fuck is he doing with Prompto?" Noct coughed, racing after Gladio under a tunnel of fallen branches. His whole body was on fire, muscles screaming with strain, and a furious headache pounded in his temples. "The _fuck_ is he doing with _Prompto?"_

Gladio pulled Noct out of the way of a rockslide and held him close, waiting for the next round of tremors to pass. Above them, the Titan was standing, legs bowed, fist raised to his face.

"You know what he's saying, Noct?" he shouted, and motioned for them to move, inching along a narrow shelf over a chasm. 

"Sort of!" Noct grabbed at Gladio's sleeve as the Titan's voice tore through his mind, and groaned with the effort of trying to piece together the memories of learning old Lucian with his dad, years before. "Little. Little something. Little star."

The Titan spoke again, and Gladio had to grab Noctis in both arms as he tipped forward, narrowly making the jump to the other side. 

"Little star," Noct translated, as the echoes of the Titan's voice rumbled off the crater walls. "What have they done?"

 

\---

 

"Dude!" Prompto shouted, holding onto the Titan's thumb for dear life over a several hundred meter drop. "I don't know what you're saying! I failed Old Lucian like, twice! I had to take make-up classes in Galahdian Studies!"

The Titan's voice rolled over him, and Prompto's teeth chattered. 

"Look, I'm sorry!" Prompto cried. "I'm not the king! I'm not even the king's shield, or advisor, or anything! I'm just like... I'm a guy from East 33rd! I take photos! I like... I like dogs!"

The Titan lowered his thumb, and his hand started to tilt. Prompto's hands clenched on the nail, but when his legs slid over the side, the Titan shook him off, and he fell into the Astral's open palm.

By the time the giant fingers closed over him, Prompto barely had the breath to scream.

 

\---

 

At last, a terrible silence settled over the crater. Noctis heard only the frantic thrum of his pulse in his temples and the beat of his footsteps as he and Gladio pushed themselves up a stretch of rock that emptied out at the Titan's feet. Ignis panted, red-faced, glasses fogged beyond use, and skidded down a sheer cliff-face to where Noctis and Gladio were waiting. And all three of them, in their own, desperate way, sent up a prayer to any god who would listen that Prompto would make it through alive.

And for once, a god answered.

Light started to creep through the lines of the Titan's fingers, specks of it, like the flickering glow of fireflies in late spring. The light billowed around the fist in a cloud of sparks, and the men below reeled back, hit with a force that brought with it the scent of warm rain and sweltering pavement, of clicking fans, of bicycle spokes, and the clink of ice in plastic cups.

It brought Ignis to mind of an afternoon sitting on his uncle's balcony, surrounded by crisp white shirts and bedsheets on the line. Gladio remembered grass clippings, the crinkle of old books and the smell of boot polish. Noct thought of exhaust and fried dough, and a hand that held his tight through the chaos of a festival, an anchor in the crowd.

The Titan opened his fist, and the man they knew as Prompto raised a hand to his eyes and laughed.

"Wow," he said, in the language of old Lucis. "Rude."


	5. Chapter 5

The body of Prompto Argentum sat cross-legged in the palm of the Archaeon, his ever-fidgeting hands laying flat on his lap. He conscientiously removed his vest, which was charred by the heat that radiated from his skin, and bent down to start unlacing his boots.

"This isn't very convenient, taking his body like this," he said. He pushed the shoes off just before the rubber started to melt. "I'm used to sharing, but he's only mortal. We have twenty minutes at most before it kills him."

"Then we will wait," the Titan said. His voice held the patience of the tides beneath the earth. "And when he dies, you will be free."

Prompto's eyes flared white. "Oh. Oh, no, you don't understand. I like him. He's mine."

He looked down at the men standing far below, and waved an arm. Heat rippled the air, and he pinched at a dust mote, turning it into a bright speck of light.

"They're all mine," he said.

A buzzing rose in the high air above the meteor, and the Titan's fingers curled, creating a wall around Prompto's body. "Your killers have come again, my star," he said, as imperial airships filled the sky like fat beetles, spilling their soldiers onto the smoldering earth. "They think to best me before your king can form the covenant."

The god in the Titan's hand rose to his feet, bearing his mortal body to the edge of the Astral's palm. He smiled, and the spark of light he'd made bounced against another dust mote, creating a second spark, then a third, then a fourth, until a cloud of light swirled around his bare skin. When he spoke, steam hissed on his tongue, and his eyes burned with the fire that starved out trees, that cracked skin and bled rivers dry.

"I have fifteen minutes," he said. "That's more than enough time to take care of you, friend." He laid a hand on the tip of the Titan's finger, and bared his teeth. "Just remember, when it's done? Whatever plans you have for my boys, I found them first."

Then the Titan tried something new, something he hadn't done in all his time on Eos.

He laughed.

 

\---

 

Noctis had heard of the trial of the covenants.

At twelve, he'd read the journal of one of his ancestors, who described the long battles she'd waged with the Astrals just for the chance to borrow their power once. He read of fists that could level cities, of a roar of rage that burst eardrums, of fire and ash and waterspouts that sent hardened warriors running. 

He hadn't read anything like this.

When Prompto dropped from the hand of the Titan, the light that surrounded his small form coiled together in a bright, blinding sphere. The stones at Noct's feet rattled, dragging across the ground, some lifting inches into the air, and Noct felt a pull in his own body, and had to brace his feet and grab Gladio's arm as an anchor.

The sphere of light slowed, and spirals of dust and debris circled it, forming perfect spirals in the air. Then the light broke apart, creating a golden haze that stung Noct's eyes, and Prompto Argentum dropped, naked, onto the earth at the Titan's feet.

"Oh, damn," he said. "He liked those pants."

"Prompto?" Noctis let go of Gladio, and skidded forward, drawn to Prompto as though pulled to him in a high wind. "The hell was that?"

Prompto grabbed Noct before he could crash into him, and laughed as Noct frantically started pulling off his jacket. "No, no, dear heart," Prompto said. "I'll ruin it. Keep it on."

"What the hell did he do to you?" Noct asked. "Are you... Possessed? Did he fuck with your head? What's your name, what day is it? How many fingers--"

Prompto rolled his eyes. "Not the time. As Prompto would say, you have the big guy to worry about." He pointed up, and Noct craned his head to see the Titan crouching down, fist raised for a crushing blow.

"Oh, shit."

"Here," Prompto said. He took Noct's head in both hands, and Noct winced at the heat that tightened his skin. "A blessing, for luck." 

Then Prompto kissed him, and Noct's mind filled with light.

 

\---

 

Prompto woke to the sound of humming.

It wasn't a very good melody, all things considered. The singer was about as tone deaf as Ignis, and they kept having to stop, double back, and try the same five bars again. If Prompto were able to speak, he might've begged him to stop. As it was, his throat felt raw, and there was an odd, oppressive weight on his chest, holding him down. 

"Sorry about this," said the voice of his soul.

Prompto blinked. He was covered in almost every sheet and duvet from Noct's armiger, and Gladio was draped over him with an arm tucked around Prompto's heavily-padded middle. There was a tickling in Prompto's head, and the voice of his thoughts, the voice that echoed his own in quiet moments, spoke up again.

"I was trying to ease you into it," the voice said. "But, well. I suppose we don't have that kind of time."

Prompto felt his eyes close, and his mind burst with color as he saw himself, laughing into the Titan's ruined face. Himself, naked and cloaked in light, standing in front of an MT trooper. Snapping his fingers. Light streaking out through the cracks in the MT's armor as they collapsed in on themselves, rattling out an inhuman screech.

Noctis, his sword infused with the force of a small sun, shattering the arm of the Titan.

Then he saw... Himself, again. But he had thick, dark hair, white eyes, a wide expressive mouth. He strode among the sunflowers in a wide field, his hair crowned in blossoms, the shadow of antlered horns at his back, a curved blade in one hand. The sunflowers turned to face him as he came, and he slid the blade along his palm. The blood that welled there was white-gold, and it boiled as it slipped between his fingers.

“The new year has dawned,” he said, and when his blood fell to the earth, a small sun burst from beneath him, rocketing into the clear sky.

Prompto blinked. This time, he knelt on a grassy hill that overlooked a small town. He was trapped in the pincers of a magitech claw, which thrummed and shook as Prompto tried to break free. With every burst of power he used to escape, the shaking grew stronger, until Prompto's unfamiliar body crumpled, and his corpse dissolved into ash.

A man with light blond hair and a thick robe stepped forward, and flipped a switch on the shuddering machine.

"Magnificent," he said. "Can you imagine, chancellor, what we can do with the power of the sun?"

Darkness. A blast of heat, and the scream of a child, then Prompto was in his own body again, his body at the age of six, sitting outside his apartment with an unwrapped popsicle in his hands. He watched a ladybug crawl across the mailbox post, and when it flew away to land on his sticky fingers, something in the back of his mind laughed in delight.

Prompto laughed, too.

"I was always there," said the voice, as young Prompto giggled, trying to guide the ladybug over his knuckles. 

"Always," it said, as the image changed, showing a nine-year-old Prompto sitting alone in his classroom during lunch, flipping through his camera. His shoulders were hunched, head down, and he didn't notice how the light in the window shifted, stretching unnaturally far to glide over his desk. The shadow of a bird flying by startled him, and Prompto looked up in time to see a robin lighting on the windowsill.

He smiled.

He saw himself lying in the grass with the tinny sounds of a pop song rising from his earbuds, saw the way the sun made his face glow and his eyes shine. He saw the blossoms of the trees in his neighborhood turn as he passed, saw the morning glories open, one after another, in anticipation of his coming. He saw the sunflowers in the shrine, the stone in his hand, the look of shock in Noctis' eyes that slowly faded to awe. And underneath it all, through every memory of his waking life, he could finally put a name to the the joy that sang in the back of his mind.

Prompto opened his eyes again.

Ignis sat at his side, shaking out a damp washcloth over a bowl. Noctis was on Gladio's other side, face illuminated by the screen of his phone. When Prompto tried to clear his throat, all three of them looked up.

"So," Prompto said, in a harsh, dry rasp. "I think we need to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I know I've been a bit slow on updates lately, but rest assured that nothing is abandoned.

Rain blanketed the chocobo post beyond the caravan windows, forming little creeks in outdoor stables and pooling in plastic chairs. Inside, Prompto sat with his back against the wall, a sleeping bag wrapped firmly over his shoulders, and held a mug of mint tea in both hands. 

Ignis, sitting in a cheap wooden chair by the kitchenette, opened the oven door with his foot to check his croissants. The smell of butter and bread filled the room, and Prompto tried not to drool into his tea.

"They say there was a shrine to Helios in Insomnia," Ignis said, gently pushing the door closed again. "Did you ever go?"

"Sure," Prompto said. "I was three. Mom said I pulled my pants down and peed in the grass, so we couldn't go back."

"Not really godly behavior, Prompto," Gladio said.

"There were no restrooms there!"

"He's right." Prompto jumped as a pile of blankets revealed themselves to be Noctis, who had drifted off somewhere between Gladio's description of Helios' origins and Prompto's retelling of his entire life from the age of four. Now, Noctis flopped an arm over Prompto's leg and blinked at him muzzily. "I had to do the sun ritual when I was ten. Wore this giant hat and sat on a rock for hours. I looked like a nerd." 

"Hey, I didn't come up with that," Prompto said.

"And you looked fine," Ignis added. "So, Prompto. Does this happen often? Having your body, ah, borrowed by a god? Any fainting spells as a child, gaps in your memory?"

"Not really. Mom says I used to get sick when I was a baby, but it stopped when I was a toddler. I guess the god kind of... got used to me."

"Doesn't seem right," Gladio said. "Gods shouldn't just use people like that."

"Uh," Noct said, and gestured to himself. "Hey, Gladio. Nice to meet you. I'm Noctis, official, ordained tool of the gods."

"Never said I liked it," Gladio muttered. Noct sat up a little, brows raised. "Look, I'm supposed to help you do your job. No one told me I had to stop _thinking._ Watchin' sunshine here turn into a human firework changed some things."

"Aw, dude," Prompto said. "You do care." He took a long draft of the tea. "But so does he. The, the god, I mean. It's not like I can always... hear him, I guess, but he's somewhere in the background all the time. And he likes you." He drew up his knees. "All of you."

"So when he kissed me," Noctis said, turning his unreadable gaze to Prompto, "was that him, or you?"

Prompto took a breath. He looked to Ignis, who was pulling the croissants out of the oven. Gladio, an arm around Prompto's shoulders, worry etched deep in the lines of his face. Noctis, strangely tense for someone half asleep, watching him. They always seemed so out of reach, chosen men with destinies Prompto couldn't hope to touch.

“That was him,” he said. “Me? I’d ask you out first. Take you somewhere nice.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Noct was finally smiling a little, though his lips were pressed thin. “The last time I saw you try to ask someone on a date, you told her, and I quote, _Your legs are very human._ You said her legs were human, Prompto.”

“I choked!” Prompto dodged Noct’s soft punch to his arm. “But… Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind trying again.”

“With what’s-her-name? From school?”

“No,” Prompto said. “You guys.” Gladio’s arm stiffened, and heat raced up Prompto’s neck. He couldn’t bring himself to look any of them in the eyes. “Not like you have to… I thought Gladio and Ignis were maybe together, or you and Ignis, but then you and Gladio kept doing those early morning fishing trips, and I mean, I don’t know. Maybe the god rubbed off on me—shut up, Noct, not the fucking time—and made me more… selfish, but I. I want…”

He gestured helplessly at the caravan. “Everything,” he said. “I guess.”

Gladio made a sound that could have been a laugh, but it had a nervous edge to it, the kind of awkward, _oh, shit,_ quality it got when the car broke down and Gladio realized he’d have to do most of the pushing. Prompto wondered if it would be possible to ask the god to just get things over with and smite him on the spot, but then Noct’s hand was on his knee, and suddenly all Prompto could think of was the feel of his fingers on Prompto’s jeans.

“Maybe we should try again,” Noct said. 

“Is this really the place—“ Ignis began, just as Prompto breathed, “Sure.” Noct leaned in, misjudged the angle, and ended up kissing the corner of Prompto’s mouth instead. Prompto grinned and kissed Noct’s nose to make up for it.

“Yeah,” Noct said. “That’s definitely Prompto. Gladio, you should check, too. Just in case.”

Prompto turned to Gladio. He opened his mouth to tell him to go ahead, might as well, when a dog barked at the door.

"Umbra." Noct squeezed Prompto's knee, then rolled off the bed in a cascade of blankets and sleeping bags. "Sorry, Prom. Hold onto that thought." 

"Careful," Ignis said, as Noct opened the door to find Lunafreya's dog, bag bumping his chest, standing at the caravan steps. Umbra barked and bounded off towards the edge of the outpost.

"I'll go with you," Prompto said, as Gladio got off the bed with a groan of springs. 

"And get sick? No, you and Specs stay here." Noct pointed at both of them before disappearing behind Gladio's impressive bulk. "Royal order."

Ignis gave Prompto a small smile as the door slammed shut, and carried over a plate of croissants. He sat next to him, holding the plate out, but he kept an ear trained to the sound of distant barking.

"We’ll all have time to work this out," he said. 

Prompto picked at the pastry. "I know you guys are close, Iggy. I don’t want to get in the middle.”

"I was talking about the god inhabiting your body, Prompto, but no, you wouldn’t be in the way." Ignis' cheeks flushed the faintest pink. "If that’s what you want, of course. No one would want you to be made uncomfortable."

Prompto kicked Ignis' leg, and grinned at the look of consternation he got in response. "Doofus."

"Excuse me?"

"I have a god sharing my brain, Ignis. I got naked in front of the Titan. I’m kind of the definition of uncomfortable right now.” He drummed his fingers on the bed. “But with all that going on, things like this aren’t really that big of a deal anymore, you know?”

Ignis stared at him. The pink in his cheeks deepened, and his lips parted. For the first time since Prompto had met him, he was truly and utterly speechless.

It was a nice look.

Prompto placed a hand on his and leaned forward. Ignis met him halfway, and the plate between them clattered to the floor. Ignis kissed him hungrily, with none of the grace or reservation Prompto expected, and practically shivered when Prompto slid a hand through his hair. 

Footsteps sloshed through the gravel outside, and Prompto and Ignis drew back, breathing hard, as the caravan door slammed open. Noctis stood there, Gladio at his back, seemingly not bothered by the rain that ran down their necks and flattened their hair.

"It's Luna," Noct said. "We just missed her. She woke Ramuh, and the empire knows. If we don't go now, they'll kill him."

Prompto disentangled himself from the sheets, and felt the stirring of what he now knew was the god in his mind. A fire ran through his nerves, pouring new strength in his exhausted body, and he rose to his feet.

"Very well," Ignis said, as Noctis pulled out the whistle for his chocobo. "Then it's a race."

 

\---

 

They made it within fifteen feet of the first mark of Ramuh when lightning struck. It hit the tree first, then branched off in a devastating arc to strike the ground at Prompto's feet, turning the earth into a twisted lump of molten glass. It struck again, sending Prompto flying back into the mud, raincoat bunched around his middle as he crawled backwards out of the way of another blast.

"What the fuck?" Noct shouted, and dove in front of Prompto just as another bolt broke from the sky. It narrowly missed them, turning aside at the last second to hit a nearby pine.

"Maybe I should keep my distance, dude," Prompto said. Noct shook his head.

"No," he said. "If I'm the king, I make the rules. This is like that Titan bullshit all over again." He got up, pulling Prompto with him, and they slowly approached the tree together. The tree that housed a portion of Ramuh's power sizzled and spat lightning in short, erratic bursts, the light in its heart flashing faster the closer they came. Finally, when they were within a few feet of it, a handful of tiny bolts shot towards Prompto, trying to snake around Noct. Just as the light made spots of black pop in Prompto's eyes, a pair of large arms enveloped them both.

"Self-sacrificing dumbass," Gladio said. He dragged them back, and Noctis tried to wriggle loose. In between them, Prompto was, for a moment, blissfully safe from the rain. Gladio kept his arms around him as Noct ran for the tree, and Prompto let himself sink into his hold.

Noctis placed both hands on the tree, and the light went out.

"Uh." Noct stepped back, and set his hand on the tree again. Nothing happened. No magical fire, no glowing light to show the covenant had been made. He tried knocking on the wood, but the tree just stood there, gnarled and twisted and about as divine as a piece of driftwood.

"Should that happen?" Noct asked. 

Ignis started to speak, but his voice was drowned out in a crackle of magic as lightning shaped itself in the air around them, taking the form of an enormous robed figure standing over the mountain. The figure was more of a silhouette filling in the points the lightning made, a suggestion of a person, and when they bent their head to stare, it was hard to tell if they were looking at Noct or Prompto.

They spoke, in a voice that sounded like the hiss and pop of a shorting fuse. And in the back of his mind, Prompto heard a whisper in response.

 _He wants your prince to forsake our blessing,_ the god breathed. Noctis hunched over himself in his effort to handle the full force of Ramuh's demands in his head. Prompto thought it was pretty rude, really, the gods just pushing their voices through, even though Noct was supposed to be their chosen one. Helios was always soft, subtle, a quiet breeze to the great Astrals' maelstrom.

 _They never really cared much for people,_ he thought—or Helios thought. It was hard to tell, with Noctis shaking and groaning under Ignis' steady hands. _Only the small gods took the time to know you._

Ramuh made his request again, this time to Prompto directly. _The weak do the weak no favors,_ he said. _You are no god, simply a mortal bearing the ashes of a forgotten sun. Placing a claim on the King of Light is to throw our divine will into chaos._

"No," Prompto said, and now he really wasn't sure if it was him speaking. He laid a hand on Gladio's chest and pushed away. "He's mine, and Noct is right. If he's the king, he makes the—"

The lightning that came from the sky this time was too swift to counter. It made for them in a terrible streak of purple and white against the grey sky, and Prompto felt Gladio grab him again, pushing him down to the mud-slick earth. The ground rolled as they fell, and Prompto closed his eyes for the blow.

It never came. He opened his eyes to see Gladio, his face in shadow, peering up at a strange dark wall that had closed over them just as the lightning struck. The wall shifted, spraying mud all over their legs and back, and the hand of the Titan lifted up in a fist, strands of lightning crackling over his knuckles. To their right, Noctis' eyes glowed violet.

"Yeah," he said, as the Titan reared up out of the earth, placing his back squarely between them and Ramuh. "How about we fucking don't."

 

\---

 

It took a week for the storm to clear. They hid out in Lestallum with Iris, clinging to the walls as lightning struck and alleyways overflowed. More than once, Prompto tried calling on the power of the god within him, trying to conjure memories of bright winter days and sun breaking through thunderheads, but all he did was create a few sparks of light and turn all the water within a ten foot radius to steam. Noct suggested using him as an umbrella, but after their first attempt led to Noct's hair curling in the humidity, the idea was scrapped.

He still refused to make a deal with Ramuh.

"You don't know some of the shit he said," Noct told Prompto, when Prompto suggested, for the fifth time, that he just go to the Astral and talk. "Anyways, I already have two gods on my side. Who needs him?"

"It might fuck up their plans," Prompto said.

"Yeah, well." Noct cracked open a can of Ebony and passed it to Ignis, who was reading one of Gladio's books on the bed. "Maybe if they told me what those plans are, it wouldn't be an issue. Do you know?"

Prompto thought about it. "I think Helios wasn't that kind of god. He's pretty chill."

"Works for me," Noct said, and smiled. 

That was another thing. It had happened so suddenly, this newest change, but Prompto felt like they'd only needed the slightest push for it to happen. When they'd stumbled into Lestallum, exhausted and filthy and smelling like ozone and magic, something shifted between them all. Touches lingered. Careful space was breached, heads lain on shoulders, legs tangled together on the couch of their room in Lestallum. Prompto woke more than once to Gladio's lips on his neck or Ignis' hands in his hair, and Noct was always with him, casually draping a foot or an arm over him at all times, like he was staking a claim. 

With the storm keeping the empire's airships from landing near Lestallum, they had time to breathe. 

Prompto knew the minute Ramuh had sunk back into his fitful sleep. He woke with all his senses sharpened, his skin thrumming with energy. He flopped onto Gladio, who grunted, grabbed him, and rolled over so Prompto was trapped between him and the mattress.

"Morning, sunshine," he mumbled. Prompto slid a hand up to Gladio's jaw and tilted his chin up, examining him closely. He was softer than he let on, which showed in light touches, in books of poetry he read in the car when he thought no one was looking, in the way his eyes seemed to gentle when he looked at the others over the fire. Prompto smiled.

"I always liked people like you," he said, quietly. Gladio's gaze sharpened. "You would have made a nice priest. Painted in white and yellow, with rings in your hair." He brushed a thumb over Gladio's lower lip, and Gladio's mouth opened slightly. "They knew that every field was an altar, every upturned face a shrine. They loved me, once."

Beside them, Noct mumbled in his sleep, and Ignis sat up on an elbow. "You're glowing, Prompto," he said, and waved a hand through a dust-fine stream of light. 

Prompto sighed, and the light began to fade. Before it was gone, Gladio closed the space between them. Prompto's lips parted in a smile under his, and he carded his hand through Gladio's long hair.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Any time." 

Then he was gone, and Prompto was staring up at Gladio's flushed cheeks, a hand in his hair. 

He shrugged. Gladio let out a huff of a laugh, but Prompto was already sitting up, kissing him properly this time, as the windows glowed with the light of the sun breaking through the last of the scattering storm.


	7. Chapter 7

Iris Amicitia stood up in the backseat of the Regalia, holding her straw hat to keep it from blowing away in the breeze. Gladio, making a sound like a hawk being punted out of the sky, grabbed Iris around the legs as she wobbled dangerously.

"Iris," he croaked.

"Empire behind us!" Iris said, entirely unmoved by her brother's distress. "Again!"

Noctis groaned. Ignis, eyeing the dwindling fuel tank, slammed on the gas and veered into a side road. Iris yelped and fell onto Noct, who caught her hat before it could fly off into the bushes, and Prompto hung onto the Oh Shit handle at his side for dear life.

"This is the fifth time!" Ignis shouted, over the crack and thunk of future car repair bills in the making. "I'm rather close to the edge of my patience!"

"Really?" Prompto shouted back. A tree branch whipped the side of the Regalia, showering them with leaves. "You think?"

Ignis ground his teeth so hard that Prompto could have sworn he could hear the squeak of bone. The car wheeled down a dirt road at the edge of a cliff, and a groan of dismay rose from the backseat as Prompto gripped the edge of the door, letting out a whoop that echoed off the rocks below.

It had been Noct's idea. Even with Helios slipping in and out of Prompto's mind like a welcome houseguest, Luna was the resident expert on the Six. Without her, they were stumbling in the dark, trying to feel their way forward through vague visions and the occasional splitting headache. They couldn't afford to wait. So Cindy had rigged King Regis' old boat with scrap parts and a bit of hope, Jared and Talcott had piled into a car for the cape, and Iris had shoved herself between Noct and Gladio, claiming the need for space.

"I think we lost them!" she cried, as the car screeched into the parking lot next to the Cape Caem lighthouse. She fell out of the car, lying flat on her back on the concrete. "Definitely. Lost them."

"Hold on," Prompto said. "Let me join you." He hobbled over to Iris and collapsed dramatically, earning a disapproving look from Ignis. 

"You'll have to carry us, Gladdy," Iris called. Gladio gingerly stepped over both of them. "Gladdy! He's hopeless, Prompto."

"Someone is," Gladio said, and Iris raised her hand to make a rude gesture at his back.

Prompto took his time heading up the hill. He wasn't sure he liked the thought of leaving this place, where people planted sunflowers for an old god and wore dog tags with the huntress' symbol, or where he and his friends had spent long, lingering hours on the docks and in the grasses. It was his. He could feel his blessing in the air--not just Helios', he realized, but his. Theirs.

Slowly, the daisies that lined the rough path to the lighthouse turned towards Prompto. Branches bent. New growth popped free from drying twigs, twisted, blossomed, fell about him like a soft rain. He smiled, brushing a petal out of his hair.

"I love you, too," he said. 

They set up in the lighthouse keeper's place for the night, taking over a large room upstairs while Jared and Talcott roomed below with Monica and Dustin. Prompto crashed on the bed with Noct sometime after sunset, luxuriating in the feel of Noct's fingers in his hair, the warmth of his breath on his shoulder. The others joined them a few hours later, leaving the second bed for Iris, and Prompto could feel Helios surging in his mind, practically humming with pleasure. 

Then, just as the moon wheeled past midnight, Prompto scrambled upright.

"Nghuh?" Noct murmured.

"She's here," Prompto said. He climbed out of bed, kicking Gladio in the process, and stumbled barefoot onto the worn boards of the bedroom. He could hear the others stirring behind him, but he didn't bother turning to check. He just pattered downstairs, dressed only in his boxers and an oversized shirt, hair wild, eyes hazy with sleep. Light shifted over the living room as he passed, casting shadows against the walls and sliding along the window panes. 

He opened the door, and the night gave way before him.

 _Careful,_ Helios said, as the morning glories on the railing unfurled. _Careful._

"Prompto?" That was Noct, hanging onto the door frame. "You're glowing."

"Someone's here," Prompto said. He headed down the path, towards the discordance ringing in his awareness, barely paying attention to the crack and crash of feet behind him. At last, at the foot of the hill, he faltered to a stop. Light rolled over the slope, sliding off the buckles and clasps of Loqi Tummelt's pristine uniform as he hunched, panting and wretched, over the wooden fence.

"Loqi?" Prompto asked.

"Lela?" he said, in another man's voice.

Loqi looked up, and his eyes were black as pitch.

"Old friend." Loqi's voice was rough, broken, like he'd screamed himself hoarse long ago. "Look what they've done to us."

Prompto touched his cheek. "What they've done to you, at least," he said. Helios said. "This is your vessel, then?"

"He fights me," the goddess said. Loqi's nails dug into the fence post. "Always, he fights me. Hates me. Hates the gods. They all do. They'll kill you again, Helios. They've ordered this creature to use my gifts to hunt you down."

"He'll die if you hold him much longer," Helios said. Loqi was gasping, trying to reach for the collar at his neck.

"Good. He's a coward," the goddess hissed. "A coward and a thief."

"Can we do anything to fix this?" Prompto asked, and the goddess narrowed Loqi's eyes. "Can you be separated?"

"If he dies," Helios said. Loqi's legs trembled. "But Lela, if we--"

"Kill him, then," the goddess said. "Kill him, Helios, I know you love these creatures, but for once, you must--" Prompto caught Loqi by the arms, but it was too late. The collar flashed blue, and Loqi shuddered in his arms. He fell to his knees, retching miserably, and Prompto touched the back of his head.

"Poor creature," Helios said. "Neither of you deserve this."

Loqi looked into his eyes. In the light that shone from Prompto's hand, he looked haggard, worn, almost like a man on the brink of starvation. He shied from Prompto's touch, cringing like a wild animal in the street.

"Don't touch me!" 

"Hey," Prompto said. "Hey, it's okay. We can help--"

Loqi barked out a low, terrible laugh. "Help," he rasped. "You can't help me. You're worse than I am."

"We get by," Prompto said. He crouched down, and Loqi winced. "Come on. Let's get that collar off y--"

"No!" Loqi scrabbled back, eyes wild. "No! Don't you touch me!"

"Loqi," Prompto said. "Lela."

"Don't touch me!" Loqi cried. He backed away, holding a hand over his eyes to shield him from the light, and fled, half crawling at first, his voice a desperate yowl in the growing dark.

Prompto crouched there a moment, eyes stinging, and slowly rose to his feet. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "We'll help him."

"Luna has to know something," Noct said, from Prompto's back. Prompto turned to him, and he felt the aching loss in Helios tugging him forward. He swung an arm around Noct and pulled him close, breathing hard around the tears, trying not to think of the two wretched, broken spirits running in the woods, never quite whole.

 

\---

 

Morning dawned late, a brilliant sunrise gilding the ocean as Noct, Prompto, Ignis and Gladio climbed into the boat and prayed for the engine to start. It took a few tries, but it rattled to life at last, and Prompto lay out on the deck as it puttered into the ocean, idly taking pictures of Gladio's backside while Noct made comments over his shoulder.

"That one's a work of art," Noct said, as they headed out to open sea at last. Ignis was passed out on a bench, so they lounged together under the blazing sun, listening to the wind as it whipped over the deck.

"You think he'll be okay?" Prompto asked, watching Cape Caem disappear over the horizon. Noct shifted, sliding an arm under Prompto's head as a pillow. 

"Don't know," he said. "He looked pretty fucked up. It was... Made me think what could've happened, if you hadn't..."

"I get along with everyone," Prompto said. 

"I won't hurt him," he added, and Noct raised his brows.

"Good," he said. He looked into Prompto's eyes, searching for the god that peered through them. "Because he's my best friend. More than that, really."

"Soulmates," Prompto said, and smiled. "Who knew you could have more than one? Literally, for me." Noct rolled his eyes, and Prompto sat up for a brief, chaste kiss. "I'll be fine, Noct. We'll all be fine."

Noct drew up Prompto's hand in his and kissed the back of his wrist, lips running over the lines of his tattoo. 

"I hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

Altissia should have been a city of the gods. Prompto could feel it the moment he stepped onto the floating dock next to the customs desk--Statues lined rooftops and reclined on pillars, symbols of the sun and sea were etched on cobblestones and painted on gondolas, and everywhere, he could feel the strength of an aimless, unfocused sense of worship, of beauty. It was like coming home.

"We'll never find her here," Noct whispered. He didn't see the heart of Altissia laid bare like Prompto could--His gaze slid over twisting alleys and crowded buildings, a maze of alleys and canals where the Oracle waited, risking capture with every minute she wasn't on the move. Something in Prompto bristled at that--The Oracle was, in her own way, ensuring that the sun continued to rise, unclouded by the Scourge. She was _his,_ just as the guys were, just as Altissia was, Insomnia, _Lucis--_

"Calm down, dude," Prompto muttered, but the disquiet remained, rolling in his belly as Noct fumbled his way through an excuse at the customs desk. Prompto fell behind, pulling out his camera to catch glimpses of Noct staring out over the water, of Gladio rolling his shoulders, Ignis bending down to fix his bootlaces next to a spray of flowers. It grounded him, narrowing his field of vision to just a square and a shutter. Noct caught him looking and flashed a rueful smile.

They couldn't just start asking around for the Oracle, which meant the four of them had to blend in with the tourists, traipsing down flower-strewn boardwalks and pacing themselves on a labyrinth of stairs. Ignis attempted the _bewildered tourist_ trick more than once, boldly opening doors only to cry, in his poshest, thickest accent, "Oh, dreadfully sorry! I thought this was the visitor's center! Could you be so kind...?" while Gladio apologized over his shoulder.

"No luck," he said, when the third building proved to be full of nothing but ratlike dogs and decorative urns. "We can't very well break into every building in Altissia."

"She could be with the governor," Noct said, passing Prompto a soft pretzel from a cart. "Altissia swings neutral sometimes."

"When it benefits them," Gladio said. "I heard the governor's been taking soldiers for repair work in the arena..."

Prompto let their voices drift, turning his own thoughts inward. If Luna _did_ have some sort of claim on Helios, couldn't he... figure out where she was? Sense her, maybe? Prompto tried to think of the Oracle, concentrating on the memory of her neat, cursive handwriting, the stories Noct used to tell, the rare photos that snuck their way to Lucis on Imperial propaganda. 

Nothing. The city was just as much a maze as always. Prompto sighed and turned away, towards the walls of water that rolled into the quiet sea.

Someone coughed. Prompto looked to the guys, who were slowly making their way to a fishing dock. They were still talking in low voices, Gladio gesturing with both hands, Noct's shoulders hunched in defiance. Prompto took a step forward, and someone coughed again.

"Even after all this time, you never notice me." Prompto turned, mouth full of pretzel, as one of the figures in a frieze just over his head stopped holding onto the roof, plopped her head in her hands, and shook out her marble curls. She blinked at him, and her eyes were white and streaked with mildew.

"You were cuter with black hair," she said. "But I like your new chin."

"Guys," Prompto whispered.

Noct sidled over, looking dazed from the heat, and raised a hand over his eyes. "What's up?" he said. "Oh. That's cool. It's almost like the statue's--"

The figure stretched her legs and lay out on the top of her pillar, and Noct fell silent. "Art," she said. "My name's Art. Goddess of. Well, that and architecture, of course."

"I think I remember," Prompto said. "Or he does. You were born in the main square, right?"

"By the arena," Art said, with a lazy twirl of her hand. "A struggling artist threw himself on my fountain and _begged_ for inspiration, and I'm not about to say no to being worshipped, am I?"

"How come the empire hasn't found you?" Noct asked. The goddess stared at him.

"Is this a mortal of yours, Helios?"

"Uh, yeah," Prompto said, and grimaced a silent apology to Noct. "Yeah, he's mine."

"Then I'll forgive him. The empire," she said, in an arch tone, "can't kill me any more than it can kill the ocean, or the sky--"

"Or the sun," Prompto said. She stopped, frowning slightly.

"Oh. Well. That is." She froze, and someone whistled further down the alley. Prompto and Noct exchanged looks and slipped through the gap between buildings, where a statue of a faun was shaking themself free of a pillar.

"They can't kill me unless they kill Altissia," the goddess said, brushing off her new furry legs. "And that'll never happen."

Prompto thought of the smoking ruin of Insomnia, the jagged chunks of metal where the upper district had been, and pinched his lips together. 

"Wait," Noct said. The goddess skittered back, leaving flecks of stone on the path. "If you're the goddess of architecture, that means you're connected to all the buildings in town."

"I suppose," the goddess said, preening. "If you must ask."

"Then you can find someone," Noct said. The goddess balked when he took a step closer, so he dropped to a knee, bringing himself face to face with the faun. "The Oracle. You have to've seen her."

"You can't just ask favors of a god without a covenant," Art said, and glanced at Prompto. "Besides, you're his."

"I'm everyone's," Noct said. "That's kind of the point."

Prompto held his breath. It was strange--He'd known Noct since they were ten, ever since he'd spotted him across the classroom, gazing out the window, but this was the first time Noct had ever looked like a king: On his knees in an alley, offering allegiance to a goddess so obscure that even the empire forgot her.

The goddess approached Noct carefully, her arms outstretched, and when she touched him, he shuddered as though caught in an unseasonable breeze. The goddess closed her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "The painting with the unicorn in your mother's bedroom. I see it. You're right." She drew back. "You _are_ one of mine." Her smile was warmer now, the familiar grin of a sister or an aunt, and she patted Noct's knee. "Give me a moment."

The faun froze. Noct waited, still as a statue himself, while a breeze carried Gladio and Ignis' voices from the dock, mingling with the clack of gondolas and the lapping of waves on the canal walls. Prompto drummed his hands on his thighs and shifted from foot to foot.

The faun's head twitched, and Prompto and Noct both jumped back as the goddess re-emerged, stretching her limbs. She looked up at Noct and raised a hand. 

"Come close," she said, and Noct warily bent his head. She pressed her hands to his cheeks, and Noct shuddered, his shoulders gone stiff, his eyes wide. Prompto lurched forward, but it was over before he could get to them--Noct fell, gasping, a hand on his forehead, while the goddess backed herself into the pillar.

"Remember me when you rebuild your kingdom," she said. "Give me a gallery. A big one, full of modern art."

"S-sure," Noct whispered.

"And a fountain." The goddess' voice was faint, now, barely a breath on the wind. "I like those."

Noct nodded weakly. Prompto grabbed him under the arm and hauled him up, trying not to glare at what was left of the goddess, and hobbled him back to the dock.

"Noct!" Ignis looked up from his phone, brows raised. "You look terrible. What's happened?"

"A covenant with art," Noct said. When Ignis just stared, Noct let out a shaky laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing. I know where Luna is, that's all." He shook himself out of Prompto's grip and straightened, blinking the vague, distant look out of his eyes. "You guys up for a little breaking and entering?"

 

\---

 

"You sure?" Prompto whispered for the tenth time, shivering in the dark under the governor's summer home. They were hidden under the building itself, gasping for breath in the murky water of Altissia's drainage system, and Prompto felt like a candle flame sputtering in a damp corner, cold and miserable. They'd had to swim in the dark, sawing through grates and bars on the way, and they all looked wan and wretched in the dim glow of Noct's magic.

"I'm sure, Prompto," Noct said, and shoved at the grate over his head. Gladio joined him, twisting the bars, while Ignis and Prompto sneezed and coughed in the darkness behind them. Finally, the grate came loose, and light shone from a hole over Noct and Gladio's heads, making them look like washed-out ghosts in the gloom.

"Give me a leg up," Noct whispered, and Gladio heaved him through the hole. There was a sloshing sound, the scrape of boots, and then Noct's hand stretched down from above. "Come on, big guy."

Gladio was hauled up next, then Prompto, who fell onto a thin, damp rug in what looked like an unused wine cellar. Ignis came up last, blinking rapidly as water dripped in his eyes, and Noct silently passed out what clothes they'd remembered to stash in the armiger. They changed in silence, shivering in the shadows of large, empty wine casks and dusty shelves.

"We've made too much noise already," Noct whispered, as Prompto slipped on a soft hoodie. "We're gonna have to be careful. Art said there are guards up there."

"Tell me we aren't dragging Luna out the way we came," Prompto said. Noct blanched. "We have a way out, right?"

"We'll take the roof," Ignis said, and patted Prompto on the back. "No more canals."

"A fucking men," Prompto said, and summoned his gun. "I'll take point." He eased up the stairs, which groaned under his weight, and slowly inched the cellar door open. All he could see was a hall with thick green carpeting and roses on the walls, gilded with the light of the sunset. No magitech. No Nifs. Prompto slid out, gun at the ready, and kept his back to the wall. 

He took out the first guard himself, dragging the MT into the hallway and twisting their neck in his arms. Gladio gave him an approving thumbs up, and Prompto gently lay the MT on the carpet.

Noct warped through the next room, leaving shuddering MTs and tracks of muddy water behind, while Gladio and Ignis teamed up on the guards at the wide glass doors at the top of the stairs. They went down hard, crashing into each other before they collapsed on the steps, and Prompto could hear something scraping behind the doors, a squeal of wood on stone. 

"Someone's in there," he said, but Noct was already shoving open the doors, hair hanging wild in his eyes, his mouth twisted in a grim line. Then he jerked, clutched the door handle tight, and tilted his chin up as the sharp, gleaming point of a blade emerged from the open doors.

The trident at Noct's throat wavered, and Noct swallowed heavily, his knuckles white on the door handle. The woman holding the trident narrowed her eyes, and lifted a hand from the weapon to tuck an errant lock of light blonde hair from her forehead. The sun shone a glorious red through the window at her back, and for a moment, Prompto could have mistaken her for a goddess, bathed in light, a weapon in her hand. He took an unsteady breath, and she glanced his way for just a fraction of a second before turning to Noct, a pink flush rising to her cheeks.

"Noctis?" asked the Oracle of Tenebrae. 

Noct pushed the trident aside, and Lunafreya lowered it, letting him pass. He reached out to the hand still curled around the weapon and covered it with his own, and when he looked up, he was smiling through a haze of unshed tears.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, Luna. It's me."


End file.
